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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28652460">At Death's Door</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/liza011/pseuds/liza011'>liza011</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Baldur's Gate, baldur's gate 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:00:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28652460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/liza011/pseuds/liza011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[Contains spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3 early access!]<br/>A group of Gur is unhappy with a ruling a certain high-elf has handed down and take it upon themselves to rid the world of the source of their despondence.<br/>(My take on the night Astarion was turned into a vampire.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At Death's Door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Fluid/gifts">Dark_Fluid</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one-shot is a gift for <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Fluid">Dark_Fluid</a>, the author of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651310/chapters/67660303">Undertow</a> (a work in progress), which I can highly recommend. So, Dark_Fluid, if you’re reading this, thank you so much for inspiring me to try to be more descriptive in my writing.</p><p>For everyone else who is dropping by to read: Thank you for giving this story a try. I hope you're going to enjoy my take on things.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It was never truly dark in Baldur’s Gate. The city was bustling and alive even at the latest of hours. Taverns were filled with people having a drink after a long day of work, inns were busy serving weary travelers their well deserved meals and providing them with a place to rest their heads. Women at the marketplace were haggling with merchants for the remaining groceries they had on offer to fill the mouths of their hungry families. And in the narrow back alleys trouble was brewing. Trouble that would soon extend beyond the reach of the few shadowed corners and spill onto the streets to paint them red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the courthouse things were still and quiet. A high-elf, tall, handsome, dressed in a simple, high collared tunic was filing away the last of the rulings he had handed down. His name was Astarion and he was ready to head home for the day to assist his sister who currently lived with him. They were taking care of their bedridden father. Their mother rarely showed her face at the house. She couldn’t bear to see her husband in pain and unable to do much of anything for himself. Secretly, both him and his sister resented her for it. He knew they shouldn’t, but they did hold it against her that she did nothing to help them. Because when she did show up she would be drunk and crying about how awful her life was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The halls of the courthouse were empty. He was the last to leave for the day and with a long heavy sigh escaping him he made his way through the foyer, his footsteps resounding from the high walls, haunting him just like the unwanted thoughts in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside the sun had already gone down. It made him sad that during the colder months he never got to see it. He left before dawn and returned after dusk, most of the light he was exposed to stemming from candles and torches, still warm, but not as inviting as the rays the glowing celestial body in the sky produced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chose the quickest route through the streets to get to the herbalist to pick up some medicine for his father. But when he turned the corner, he knew something was wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone had blocked the end of the alley with boxes and barrels stacked on top of each other. Behind him three men approached, preventing him from leaving the way he had come. Two of them were carrying clubs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gentlemen,” Astarion spoke confidently. “I’m sure this must be a misunderstanding. I carry nothing of value.” He assumed this was a robbery, but when they drew closer, he knew they were not out to take his belongings. They were here to hurt him and it was their only reason. He recognized their faces. They had been at court today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tallest spat a glob of phlegm in his general direction. “‘Tis not. You screwed us over! Took our livelihood!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure we can talk about this.” He was good at talking his way out of bad situations. His colleagues said he had a tongue of gold, but tonight it wouldn't be of help to him. “I’m positive you can find yourself more lucrative work with your particular set of skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we’re done talking. You ruined our lives. Now we’re going to return the favor and ruin yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, wait! Please, the ruling has already been handed down and they won’t be able to repeal it without my signature.” He was deceiving them in a desperate attempt to defuse the situation. He really didn’t want this fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Gur raised his club. “You declared this war the moment you started messing with my people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father had always told him, if you were being jumped it was always best to throw the first punch. Advice that would turn out to be useless in this situation, because it would be the only punch he would get in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went for the only unarmed member of the party and a second later all three of them were on top of him. He was on the ground, being kicked in the face. His attackers were wearing heavy leather boots with steel toes. His vision blurred as the tissue surrounding his eye started to swell and he wondered if the damage was so severe that he’d lose his sight completely. The second kick had him lift his arms to shield himself. He felt his skin tear as the force of the blow sent him sliding across the paved road. He tried to get up, but they only laughed. He received the first strike with a club to the back of his knees, causing him to collapse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started screaming for help. There were people passing who could clearly see what was going on, but none of them chose to act for fear of being assaulted themselves. He prayed someone would have a mind to get the city guard involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rolled him onto his back, kicked at his face again and this time, he felt his jaw break. He had also lost two of his teeth on impact. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and he remembered the last time he had been in this much pain had been the day he had tripped and fallen down the stairs with an empty bowl of soup in hand. He had crashed right into it. Pieces of broken glass had embedded themselves in his flesh. His arm had broken and he had acquired a series of bruises that had lasted him several weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t let up and he knew that he was now fighting for his life. They didn’t just want to hurt him to teach him a lesson. They wanted him dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a second attempt to get away from his attackers Astarion reached for the closest pair of legs he could see and tried to get the Gur to lose his footing. To no avail. From the angle he was at, there was no way he could produce enough leverage to make anyone stumble and fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They mocked him and then suddenly all the air he had held in his chest was gone. He felt his ribs crack and pierce his lung. It deflated. It became almost impossible to breathe. He was dizzy from pain, blood loss and now a lack of oxygen as well. The world had just become a lot darker. He no longer had the energy to call out for help. He was slowly slipping into unconsciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One last blow was delivered to his side when he heard a voice, cold and threatening, seemingly coming from far away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave or you will suffer a fate far worse than the one you had planned for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assailants scrambled back, scared and panicked, like mice fleeing from a cat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion didn’t know who had come to his rescue, but it was already too late. He was dying and unless they knew some very powerful healing spells, which was unlikely, there would be nothing they could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to turn his head, but the wave of pain that flooded his senses made it impossible for him to keep his eyes open. Tears were running down his cheeks, turning pink, partly washing away the blood that had dried on his pale skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouts of terror reached him and he realized the Gur were now running for their lives. A pair of hands began unbuttoning his shirt and with the last bit of his strength he pushed himself to see who had gone out of their way to chase the thugs away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His vision was so bad he could only make out a silhouette of a male figure wearing a set of red and black padded armor. He cast no shadow, or maybe the agony had made him delirious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are dying,” he was told.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he could have, Astarion would have laughed at the sheer needlessness of the statement. “Oh, really?” he croaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to perish here. I can offer you eternal life. But in return you will have to serve me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anything sounded better than bleeding to death in the streets. He wouldn’t have cared even if he’d had to sell his soul to a devil. “I accept.” He was so weak. He could barely hear himself speak. “Please, save me.” As the world was fading around him there was a sharp pain in his neck followed by a numbness that began to travel throughout his entire body. Before he could form another thought a blanket of darkness enveloped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He awoke, no longer in the streets but instead surrounded by the linings of the inside of a coffin. Immediately he felt an excruciating wave of panic overcome him. Had he been buried alive? Had someone made a mistake? What was going on?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instinctively he pushed at the coffin lid. His relief was palpable when it opened without any resistance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t been buried after all, but he had been placed in a crypt. Without the threat of the enclosed space and six feet of earth above him, his head cleared. He was no longer in pain and looking down he noticed that someone had replaced his dirty, blood stained shirt with a clean one. There was no light inside the chamber, but he could see better than he ever had. Several coffins lined the walls, water was dripping down from the ceiling somewhere to his left and the air held a mossy scent, not one of decay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt different, not only had his perception improved, but he was physically stronger. His mind was sharper, faster and his thoughts were somehow darker. The idea of hunting down the people who had caused him so much pain was naturally appealing to him. He longed to make them scream. It was not a thing he would have considered before, but for reasons yet unknown to him imagining it made him happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach twisted in a mix of thirst and hunger. Rats were scurrying across the floor by the dozen and reflexively he caught one passing by, sinking his teeth into its squirming little body, draining it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at the rodent he had fed on. His old self would have been appalled by his own actions, but the blood had tasted like a fine wine and it had reduced his appetite. Had he been turned into a vampire?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up and carefully placed the rat he had killed in a corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” He was disturbed at the lack of remorse he felt. The words were empty and meaningless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind him a chuckle sounded. There had been no footsteps preceding it. He spun around and was face to face with his rescuer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Cazador Szarr,” the other introduced himself in a silky, smooth voice. Astarion had heard of the family. They had resided in Baldur’s Gate for centuries and if the stories were accurate they were a bunch of cunning, nasty fellows. “I’m a vampire lord residing on the outskirts of the city and you are currently in my home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Astarion. Thank you for saving me from those thugs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.” Cazador’s piercing red eyes unnerved him. “I hope you haven’t forgotten what you agreed to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had sold himself into an eternity of servitude. Servitude to a vampire no less. He didn’t regret it, but he realized it wouldn’t be an easy life. “Of course not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Cazador stepped forward. He was a head taller than Astarion and in close proximity his presence was rather intimidating. “Get on your knees,” he ordered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” He moved while uttering the words. He was merely a spectator in his own body and the loss of control had him terrified. “What’s happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a vampire spawn,” Cazador explained. He looked into Astarion’s face, taking in his terror with a quiet smile. “And your body will respond to my every command. You are bound to me and unless I choose to free you, you will remain so for the rest of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had already begun to piece together what had happened, but now he had it confirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worse: He was less than a servant. Less than a slave even. He was a puppet. And Cazador held all the strings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could not shift his position even slightly no matter how hard he tried. His lower body wouldn’t move. The stone floor was uneven and the sharp edges were digging into his knees. It was painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, let me stand,” he hated that his voice was cracking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are in no position to make demands,” Cazador snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m begging you.” Something was not quite right with him. He couldn’t remember ever being this unsettled or distressed before. It was awful. He felt helpless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be silent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He struggled to make his lips part to form words and when he found he truly couldn’t do anything, that he couldn’t even speak, his spirit broke. He wrapped his arms around himself for comfort. All he had left were his thoughts and he prayed they were private.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador hunkered down in front of him, grabbed hold of his chin and forced him to hold his gaze. He felt his will being crushed like a bug under the heel of a boot. “Now, let me make something very clear. You are mine, and mine alone. I don’t need your approval, nor your consent. You are dead to the world and the person you were died the moment you accepted my offer and let me sink my teeth into your neck to drink your blood. For who you will become, that is partly up to you. There are a few simple rules for you to follow, so listen well. Firstly: You shall not feed on thinking creatures, but on vermin instead. Secondly: You shall not leave my side unless directed. And thirdly: You shall obey me in all things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The instructions burned themselves into his mind like a hot iron branded cattle. They became a part of him, permanently marking him with Cazador’s ideals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion now had a master. A cruel one at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I made myself clear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you have.” He could communicate an answer, but nothing more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good.” Cazador ran a hand into Astarion’s hair, who shuddered at the touch. “You’re lucky I’m feeling extremely generous tonight. I will let you voice your thoughts on all matters, but should I find them unworthy of my attention, I will revoke that privilege. You are free to speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence stretched between them and now that he was finally able to talk again, he had nothing left to say. He felt Cazador’s finger run down the side of his neck and was shocked when he began shaking uncontrollably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to hurt you.” His master was now speaking in a gentle, calming, muted tone. “I have no reason to. Not yet anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet?” It wasn’t comforting. None of this was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Severe indiscretions and mistakes will be corrected by providing a modicum of pain to the transgressor,” he enlightened him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I best not mess up.” It wasn’t really an answer. He was saying it to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correct.” Cazador withdrew his hand and announced, “Your bite marks healed nicely. They’re barely visible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion knew what had caused him to react the way he had. It had been the spot he had been bitten and just being touched there had caused him to have a breakdown. He didn’t understand why though, and he felt stupid for reacting this strongly. When his hands came away wet after he had covered his face with them, something inside him recoiled. He was crying. Why the hell was he crying?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I upset you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a shaky breath and tried to calm down. “No. I think it’s my fault. I’m overreacting. I don’t understand why it’s happening.” In fact, he hated that it was happening at all. “I wish it wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it make you feel weak?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question made Astarion pause. It did. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It shouldn’t. Your response is completely natural.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, he hoped that over time things would change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador stepped back and moved towards the crypt’s exit. Astarion rose and followed him like a ghost. The separation between his motor functions and his mind would take him a while to get used to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inside of the manor was immaculate and grand. A shameless display of wealth wherever he looked. Gold framed paintings lined the halls, chandeliers were decorated with gemstones of all kinds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try to memorize the layout. You will need to find your way around here,” Cazador spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” One view outside the window was enough for Astarion to know that the lands around the property were extensive and well maintained. However the shadows the trees cast were abnormally gloomy and seemed to be alive in a way. This and the extensive population of rats he had encountered in the crypt were some of the telltale signs of a vampire’s lair. “I was wondering how I should address you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may call me by my first name, since I will do the same for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer surprised him. “I admit, I thought I would be expected to call you master.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not necessary. You already know your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would try to make the best of his situation, even if it wasn’t at all what he had expected it to be. “How exactly have I changed? And how does a vampire spawn differ from other vampires?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate your thirst for knowledge.” Cazador said, pleased, his monstrous nature temporarily hidden. “You have inherited all of a true vampire’s hunger and its weaknesses, but you differ from one in the amount of power you have gained.” He stopped at the second to last door in the hallway and opened it. “This is the handmaiden’s room. She will take your measurements and provide you with new clothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion stepped inside. Cazador remained in the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was extremely cluttered. On the left side, there was a bed, bookshelf and a wardrobe. On the right, boxes upon boxes. Some holding fabrics, some bottles of dye and then others yarn and different knitting tools.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The handmaiden was sitting in a rocking chair. He had always associated them with old ladies, but she was a young woman, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties and he found the contrast quite amusing. She was healthy and seemed quite happy to see a new face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, dear,” she greeted him. “How are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m well. Thank you.” He had lied. He was still shaken, but didn’t want to let her know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Sinead, by the way.” She picked up a box with sewing utensils from the floor and rummaged through it. “Ah, there you are!” She pulled out a measuring tape. Gesturing to a spot next to where she had placed the box she told him, “Please, stand there. Should leave me with enough room to move around you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she drew closer the scent of her skin and the blood pulsing underneath assaulted his senses and impulsively he reached up to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. Simultaneously a feral hiss formed in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry about that. There’s nothing I can do about the smell though. You’ll get used to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was clear she knew she was working for a vampire lord and his spawn. She sounded very relaxed, but she had stopped approaching him and given Cazador a look, who told her, “It’s fine. He cannot feed on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion wished he could. He wanted to drink until she dropped. “I apologize for my reaction. This is all quite new to me and to be honest it’s a bit overwhelming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No worries.” She started measuring his height. “What did you say your name was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t said and he was sure she knew that, but ignored the fact. “It’s Astarion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty name,” she hummed. “How did you end up here, if you don’t mind me asking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cazador saved me from a group of Gur.” His head was spinning. He envisioned strangling her. He wanted her heart to stop beating just so he would be rid of the throbbing of her pulse and the constant stimulation that made him want to bite her so badly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She went on to measure the length of his arms and his shoulder width. “I see.” She addressed Cazador. “I will make your little spawn the prettiest thing you’ve ever laid eyes on.” There was an undertone that made her sound ever so slightly unhinged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t doubt that, my dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the haze that was threatening to overtake his actions, Astarion noted that Cazador seemed to be quite fond of her. His voice had softened, become warmer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking her final measurements she stepped back and scribbled everything down in a notebook. “We’re done for now. You can come back in a week for the fitting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her away from him he relaxed again. Even a small bit of distance made this far more bearable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like me to be present for it?” Cazador wanted to know from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely.” She turned to Astarion once more. “I could teach you how to fix up tears in your clothing if you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the offer. I’ll think about it.” He was sure he would be the cause of an accident if he was left alone with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome. I’ll get to work now. Have a lovely night you two.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, Sinead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was already grabbing fabrics from the boxes when Astarion and Cazador left her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They passed through the entrance hall into another wing, this one just as expensively decorated as the last, and kept walking until they arrived in a room with a fireplace. Two armchairs were placed facing it. A desk stood in front of a window holding a pile of documents and to the left, bookshelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must say, I’m surprised how well you handled being near her,” Cazador praised him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well? You think I handled that well? I wanted to drink her dry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it didn’t even show. No screaming, no crazed attempts to rip her throat out, nothing. And I know you wanted to end her, not that you could have, but still. Your self restraint is admirable. Especially since you’ve just been turned.” He got a tinderbox from the desk drawer. “I will personally teach you everything you need to know, but feel free to take her up on her offer.” After lighting a fire, he took a seat in one of the armchairs and Astarion followed suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere was more relaxed now and he wondered if Cazador’s initial display of control had been made to gauge his reactions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just might. It sounds useful.” He stretched his legs before crossing them. “I assume by ‘I couldn’t have ended her’ you meant you would have stepped in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but first you would have found yourself engulfed in hellish flames. I’d wager that alone would have made you think twice about continuing your attack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I imagine it would have, yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Though I have to give her credit where credit is due, she would be capable of fending you off on her own for quite a while."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion doubted that. "You seem to like her. Who is she to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could say I adopted her,” Cazador smiled. “She knocked on my door one night, followed by a group of monster hunters and townspeople. Her first words to me were, ‘I know what you are. They’re my gift to you. Make them suffer and I will forever be in your debt.’ She had convinced them to come with her and led them to their doom. I remember her laughing like a madwoman as she watched me tear through them one by one. When I asked her what they’d done to her she told me they had not liked the deer stew she had made them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable. Especially since it’s deer stew. Who doesn’t like deer stew? That’s unthinkable. Good on her for getting rid of those culinary barbarians.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador seemed to find that funny. “A lot of men I have spoken to do not share your sentiment and to be quite frank, they are fools.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things were becoming easier with every passing minute. Cazador’s changed attitude had also contributed to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would agree.” He watched as the flames grew brighter and began to consume the wood. “While we’re on the topic of food, does my diet solely consist of blood or am I still able to get drunk on wine and gorge myself on meat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion startled when Cazador laughed. He hadn’t thought he would. “Good thing I didn’t forbid you from speaking your mind. You’ve been turned into a spawn, had your will taken from you and your first real concern is if you’re still able to get wasted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad I amuse you,” he grinned. “So am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you find out first hand?” Cazador stood up. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returned with red wine. He uncorked the bottle and poured a glass for Astarion. Handing it over he sat down again, his eyes glued to his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you very much.” He took a whiff and could tell it wasn’t cheap wine. “It smells wonderful.” The first sip was enough to warm his cheeks. It was rich and dry, heavy with flavor and compared to nothing he had had before. It was delicious. “And it tastes even better. Best I’ve had to date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have been very disappointed if it wasn’t. The wine is produced for my family. You won’t find it anywhere else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’m all the more happy to be allowed to indulge in it,” he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador poured another glass for himself. “As you should be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he had time to think, he realized that he had not spent a single thought on his family so far. Cazador had said the person he had been had died, that he was dead to the world and he knew he had meant that literally. His memories from before he had awoken were already blurry. He felt strangely detached from them. He only felt the faintest whisper of sadness thinking of his father and sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what will you be teaching me? I assume you already have plans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will be trained to become my personal instrument of death and a gatherer of people. You will bring them here for me to dine on. If the mood strikes me, I might even let you bring someone back for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion loved the idea, it filled his heart with joy. “That sounds lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador bared his fangs in a sickening smile. “We will start with your remaining family in Baldur’s Gate, right after we finish that bottle of wine.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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